Designer Detective (A Fiona Marlowe Mystery) (12 page)

I watched his profile as he spoke. The sun
popped in and out of puffy clouds. Yellow and gold leaves fell in hops and
skips from the trees. All was well with nature. It was humanity that was in bad
shape.

“He was dealing arms then,” I said.

“He apparently was. I saw the large sums of
cash that wouldn’t be associated with any think tank job.”

“Do you have any idea why Albert did this?”

He shrugged, still staring at the trees in
front of us.
“Financial problems.
I found a lot of
unpaid bills in the desk in Albert’s room.
Big bills.
For furniture, appliances, cars, bank loans, credit cards. I don’t know who all
that stuff was for since Olivia wasn’t around racking up bills. I don’t know
how he laundered the money.”

“Where did he get the contacts?”

“Africa, most likely.
He spent a lot of time there.
Lot of lawlessness, big need
for guns.”

“And the customers?”

“You name it.”

“Jake, the man could have been supplying terrorists
and other wacko groups. I think we should go to the proper authorities.”

Jake pursed his lips and said a funny thing. “I
think the authorities are probably on to him, and they need evidence. They could
have gotten a search warrant, if they’d wanted but they held back. I don’t know
why, and I don’t want to know.”

“You might not, but I do.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. This whole
thing smells like an old bull carcass been out in the sun too long.”

“Why do you think the authorities already
know?”

“Just a feeling which is why
I don’t want to be hanging around that house any longer.
I like your
idea of Australia.”
 
He held up his
check. “We have the money. Let’s go straight to the airport.”

I looked at him in alarm. “Good grief. I have
to pack, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “All I got is back at the mansion,
and it ain’t much. I can buy what I need. I’m ready.”

“I’m not. I have to pack the right clothes, and
we have to buy tickets and get the checks cashed.”

“That will take too much time. Use a credit
card.”

“How about drive to my bank, cash the checks,
go to my condo so I can pack and make reservations on an evening flight to Sydney.”

Jake rolled his eyes but started the car, and I
directed him to the bank. We ended up depositing both checks to my account and each
taking a nice wad of cash, since Jake didn’t have an account. He was a trusting
soul.

At my apartment I packed while Jake got on the
computer and found an available flight to Sydney through Los Angeles leaving
Dulles airport that night. Our getaway preparations were going smoothly until
the phone rang.

“Hello, Miss Marlowe, this is Hudson.”

“Hudson? Are you all right?”

“Considering my circumstances, I am relatively
fine, thank you. But I’m afraid Miss Opal is in trouble. I wondered if you and
Mr. Manyhorses might help.”

Not again.

I covered the receiver. “It’s Hudson. You
better pick up on the extension in the bedroom.”

“Jake is getting on the other phone. I’m not
sure what I can do. Opal has a lot of relatives that should be willing to
help.”

“It’s a bit of chaos here, Miss Marlowe. The relatives
are exiting at a rapid pace. Cody is doing battle with them right now.
Ordering everyone out.
Going around
banging on doors and yelling.
He’s in a wicked bad mood. Says he has a
terrible headache. His face is red as a tomato. I’m rather afraid for Miss
Opal. She’s been awfully confused lately. It isn’t like her.”

I heard heavy breathing. Jake was on the other
line.

“Isn’t there someone else who can help?” I
asked. “We are rather reluctant to get involved, even though you were most
generous in payment.”

The light bulb went on. The money was for
bribery, not silence. Hudson was bribing us into helping.

“I was particularly interested in Mr.
Manyhorses helping. He knows what goes on in the family. Someone might be drugging
Miss Opal. The stories she’s been making up are not like her. Could Mr.
Manyhorses come and take her back to the ranch in Oregon?” He lowered his
voice. “I think Mr. Cody is behind all this.”

“Are you on a cell phone?” I asked.

“No, a house phone.”

“What do you say, Jake?”

“Who’s left in the house?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I’d have to check all the rooms.
Miss Opal is resting in her room, but she doesn’t look well. Might we get her
to hospital?”

Jake said, “Why don’t you take her?”

Hudson said, “I don’t believe Cody wants her to
leave the house. He’s quite agitated. I would have to go against his wishes. As
a long time butler, that is difficult for me to do.”

“You could call a doctor.”

“There are so few these days
who
make house calls.”

“True.”

“Excuse me,” said Hudson, “but someone is
coming along the hallway. I would be so grateful for your help, and I’m sure
Miss Opal would be if you came to her rescue. You are the only one I can think who
could help.”

He hung up.

I went to the bedroom. Jake was lying on the
bed, one foot on the floor, arm over his eyes.

“What are we going to do?” I said.

“I don’t know. I was hoping I had extricated
myself from that mess. I don’t think Opal is in imminent danger. I could be
wrong, but I need to think. Mind if I take a shower? I could use one, and it
helps me think.”

I gestured toward the bathroom. “Be my guest.
I’ll get you some fresh towels.”

I did a quick check of the bath to make sure I
didn’t have dirty underwear lying about. It was in reasonable shape. I pulled
out a stack of fresh, white towels and placed them on the counter. I glanced in
the mirror and gasped. I looked a fright. I desperately needed a shower, too.

“Jake, use the guest bath. I need to freshen up.
Follow me.”

I lead the way down the hall to the other bath,
placed fresh towels on the counter and stepped back so Jake could enter.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” I asked.

“Not on me. These will be okay.”

“Too bad I don’t have any men’s clothes lying
about. I’ll run out and pick up a pair of jeans and T-shirt.”
 

“Don’t bother. I’ll wear this. No big deal.
I’ll pick some things up at the airport.” He wore a T-shirt and jeans. Cowboys
didn’t make fashion statements.

I looked him over. “You really need a fresh
T-shirt. Maybe I have something in the back of one of my drawers.”

I hustled to my room which was to the back of the
condo and large enough for a small sitting area by the window that looked toward
Rosslyn. I dug through a stack of T-shirts in a remote section of the walk-in
closet. They were from conferences and other forgettable events that I’ve
attended. I had in mind an extra large maroon T-shirt from a Romance Writers conference
to which Olympia drug me. As fortune would have it I found it at the bottom of
the stack. I shook it and held it up. Across the front was blazoned,
I’d Rather Be Writing
. He might not like
it but it was double X size and a lot fresher than the one he had on. Maybe he
wouldn’t notice the writing. I hung it on the doorknob of the guest bath.

Back in my room I dropped my sleuthing outfit
on the floor and succumbed to a long, hot shower. It gave me time to think. I
dreaded going back. There was no way to stage the rescue without Cody finding
out. One rescue was my quota for the day. I still had the key to the front door,
believe it or not. We could let ourselves in after dark. But that would give us
little time to make the red eye flight to Los Angeles that we had booked. I
guess if we could get Opal out we could take her to the airport and put her on
a plane. But Hudson had said take her to Oregon. I guess that meant Jake would
accompany her so he’d carry on the rest of the caper alone.

I heard Jake leave the bathroom. I yelled down
the hall. “Help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. I could use a beer.”

“In
the frig
.”

I leafed through my clothes looking for my
favorite travelling outfit, a causal, comfortable navy no-iron slacks and sweater
outfit. After I had my clothes in place, my hair blow-dried and makeup applied,
I searched my top dresser drawer for my passport where I always kept it. Not
there. I commenced a thorough search of all the drawers. The passport was
nowhere to be found. What a time to misplace it. I wondered whether Jake had a
passport.

“Jake,” I said, as I walked to the kitchen, “I
can’t find my passport. Do you have one?”

Jake had a bottle of microbrew in hand and wore
the maroon T-shirt that was tight across the chest. Maroon was his color though.

“Passport?” he said.

“Yes, you’ll need a passport to travel to
Australia.”

“I never thought of that.”

“Does that mean you don’t have one?”

“Never had cause to leave the
country.”

“We might not be going to Australia, since you
don’t have one, and I can’t find mine.”

I pulled a brew from
the frig
and poured it into a glass. I never drink beer from a bottle. It is so
uncivilized. Leaning against the counter I savored a sip. Jake and I looked at
each other.

“You look nice. Smell nice, too,” he said.

“Thanks. I like to look my best when fleeing
the country. What now?”
 

“We could go to Los Angeles and visit
Disneyland.”

“True, or New Orleans and eat jambalaya.”

He nodded.

“What about Opal?” I said. The question hung in
the air.

Jake swallowed more beer. He smelled of
lavender soap and his curly wet hair was slicked back in a vain attempt to
straighten it. He looked a darn sight better in jeans and the maroon T-shirt than
a suit.

“I’ll go back. I owe Opal Crawford. If she’s in
a jam, I’m obliged to help her.”

I nodded. “We’re wearing a path to that house. Too
bad we don’t have a helicopter. We could wait until dark and enter by the front
door. I have the key. That is if no one has turned on the burglar alarm.”

Jake looked at me. “You said there was no
burglar alarm on the front door.”

“Right.
Every time
I’ve gone in, I didn’t have to disable a burglar alarm. I opened the door with
a key and let myself in.”

Jake studied the kitchen clock, the one in the
shape of a crowing rooster. “Cody must have disabled the alarm. That’s how he
gets the rifles in and out. Someone has a key and enters when they need rifles
or bring them in.
Could work both ways.
All those
relatives in the house might have crimped his style. I wonder why he stores the
rifles at the house.”

“It’s a mystery to me.”

“I’m going back. I’ll do this alone. No sense
involving you in breaking and entering. I’ll take the key you have in case I
can’t walk in the back door. Who knows what I’ll find.”

“I should go with you. You’ll need back up. You’re
weak in backup systems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.
A man without a passport who wants to travel to Australia hasn’t thought about
his backup systems. I think of these things.”

“You can’t find your passport.”

That shut me up. I finished my beer, pulled
another from
the frig
and offered him one. We stood
leaning against the counter, ostensibly thinking.

Jake looked at the clock again. “It’ll be dark
in half an hour.
Might as well be on my way.
Mind if I
use your car?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Fiona, it’s not a good idea for you to go. Drop
me at a car rental place, and I’ll take it from there.”

“I’ll be chauffer. I don’t mind. I think you
need backup.”

“No, I don’t.”

I fished in my purse lying on the kitchen
counter and dangled the car keys before him. “I have the keys so I have the
final say.”

A
light was on in the library at the Lodge estate when we drove up. Cody was probably
in there scheming. Three windows on the second floor had lights. Was Opal being
held hostage? Jake and I decided on the ride over that we’d not do anything
sneaky. We would be bold and act like we knew what we were doing. He drove up
to the front door and parked. No one came to the door.
 

“Let’s walk in,” Jake said.

“Wait,” I said. “What about a gun?”

“I don’t have one with me. Do you?”

“Never owned one in my life.”

“Fine, then we
walk
in
like we own the place.”

“What if Cody’s got everybody tied up and is
carrying loot out the back door?”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

Jake tried the front door. It was not locked,
and there was no burglar alarm set. We walked in, looked around, peeked in the
library. No one appeared.

“Let’s try the kitchen,” said Jake.

We looked in the drawing room, living area, music
room as we strolled by but no one surfaced. In the kitchen Hudson was standing
at the stove wearing a white, full-length apron, quite the scene of domesticity.
 

“Hello, Hudson,” I said.

He turned and regarded us with a smile.
“How very good to see you.
I was making dinner. Have you
eaten?”

It never seemed to bother him that we showed up
out of nowhere.

“Not yet,” said Jake. “We’ve come for Opal. How’s
she doing? Where’s Cody?”

Hudson turned down the heat on a pan of chicken
breasts sautéing in garlic and olive oil that smelled heavenly. How could Jake
pass on this meal? Hudson wiped his hands on a towel and removed his apron.